


sorry about the mess

by watername



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 12:58:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8490712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watername/pseuds/watername
Summary: The first one shows up at the end of the alley outside the warehouse, a half-transparent figure flipping a lighter between translucent fingers, a pearl-like shine on his fingernails.  Dark, mournful eyes gaze out from beneath a fringe of black, and Jongup grins and blows a kiss across the still-warm muzzle as Yongguk looks at him in silent disappointment. Jongup, to his delight, is haunted. (Skydive AU)





	

**Author's Note:**

> First B.A.P. fic! The pairing is mostly in the background, so this is more gen than anything else.

The first one shows up at the end of the alley outside the warehouse, a half-transparent figure flipping a lighter between translucent fingers, a pearl-like shine on his fingernails.  Dark, mournful eyes gaze out from beneath a fringe of black, and Jongup grins and blows a kiss across the still-warm muzzle as Yongguk looks at him in silent disappointment. His figure is fading before Jongup's even closed the door to the car. The sound of a lighter clicking off and on follows him as he drives, and small burns flare across his skin, one between each point of each star. 

When he goes back, the bodies of the rival gang have been removed, leaving only rusty streaks on the floor, the wall. He expects to find Himchan here, striding up to him without fear -  _and shouldn't he have known better than to do that_ \- but there's nothing except the ringing of gunshots and a flutter of money that disappears into nothing before it can reach the floor. It smells like tobacco and blood, smoke and copper, and Jongup doesn't wince at all when Junhong bends low beneath the door and stares accusingly as he leaves. 

His bed doesn't feel the same anymore - the thin, flat pillow is replaced with the blood-stained canvas of Youngjae's jacket, the broken ball of his shoulder digging into the base of his skull. When he closes his eyes, there are cold lips pressed against his temple. 

* * *

The bartender doesn't say anything when he enters and heads for a back room meant for six, now occupied by one. His hands coast over the chips and cards laid out for their next round, stopping only when they reach the aces. There's a chorus of laughter that, one by one, turns into wet chokes, and as one there's a last rattling gasp for breath.

He anticipates it before he shows himself - a sharp wink followed by disbelief - but it doesn't hurt at all. He flips the chip towards Himchan and sees it go right through him. He sweeps the salvageable money into a paper bag and throws the half-burned bills at the bartender with a sardonic smile. 

* * *

He finds a girl - slim, pretty - and laughs when he hears Daehyun behind him. The girl is confused and he leans in closer to her, watches as her eyes go wide with fear and interest. He slides a hand up her leg; he bends to whisper in her ear and winks at Youngjae, who's watching him from the end of the bar. When he kisses her, he bites at her lip until it bleeds. She shoves him away and storms off as without regret he watches her go. Daehyun sits beside him, sullen, silent, and he wonders suddenly if they can - if they _will_ - talk to him. He's killed so many, he's curious about what they have to say to him. 

There's still some of her blood on his lips; he rubs his thumb across, and puts it out in front of the apparition. Jongup whistles, long and low, for his attention and watches, pleased, as Daehyun's face contorts with fury. 

"Did she scream for you too?"

The ghostly figure snaps into solidity. It's lined with an unbroken blinding light and Jongup doesn't see the fist coming until he's sprawled out onto the floor, pain fireworking across his jaw. Daehyun stands above him, shaking.

"Fuck you," Daehyun says as he fractures along the edges. 

* * *

Their bodies are still there, and Junhong is crouched above Yongguk's instead of his own - long, lean, the edges of his clothes frayed, the dust of his last stand still falling off of him. He looks up at Jongup as he walks towards him, and stares as wide-eyed as a child when he takes out his gun and swings it around his fingers carelessly. No one will come for their bodies - whenever they discussed it before, over liquor and cards and coin, it was either that they all die together or that the survivors clean up the mess. No one besides Jongup, quiet, blinking complacently, considered the possibility of the survivors leaving the unlucky to rot.

He takes out a knife and, without breaking eye contact with Junhong, holds it to Yongguk's neck and presses it in. The blood he finds when the blade cuts is thick and still, and Junhong's voice cracks as he begs Jongup to stop. 

"Make me," he says and he digs the blade in deeper, splitting the tattoo that had stretched unbroken across Yongguk's chest. 

Junhong flickers between solid and incorporeal at a blistering pace and it's almost enough to make Jongup's stomach turn, but he won't take his eyes away from something so fascinating. In between breaths the blood on Junhong's lip goes bright red, shiny and slick, to nothing more than another shadow; when he reaches to take the knife away, the touch to the back of Jongup's hand goes from warm and firm to a cool tremble and back again.

"Junhong," he croons to an empty room populated only by ghosts and himself. "If you don't stop me, no one else will."

The smell of wine is his only warning, before an arm wraps around his neck and yanks him backwards, away from where Junhong is still fluttering uncertainly away from tangibility. He closes his eyes in satisfaction: whoever is holding him is unwavering. Their hand is splayed wide against the side of Jongup's neck, while their forearm is a taut wire across his neck. They stop, and Jongup slides his eyes to the side to find Youngjae's body. The person holding him shoves him so that he falls against Youngjae's side, a near perfect fit from where he rose from the dead earlier.

The poetic nature of the gesture is clue enough, and he's thoroughly unsurprised to look up and find Yongguk. The burns at the side of his neck sizzle anew. He smirks and cuddles in closer to Youngjae's stiff form. He buries his nose deep into his hair and comes away with blood streaking his skin. 

Yongguk just looks disgusted, and when he fades away he takes Junhong with him. 

* * *

His body is slumped against the pillar lifelessly, but Himchan's eyes are still glittering when Jongup kneels down in front of him. He takes his marble-cold hand in his and puts his gun in it, curls stiff fingers around the grip mockingly. He breaks the bones of his wrist twisting it up so that it's pointed right at Jongup's heart. 

"Any takers?" he calls out, and his lips twitch into a smile as Himchan's body jerks with motion, at the frantic desperation of his ghost to take revenge. His eyes narrow once, twice, and he coughs explosively, baptizing Jongup in a last shower of blood. His finger slides ungracefully against the trigger before the weapon falls to the floor. Jongup smiles at the failure, at how Himchan's ghost slides out of his body and stretches across the floor, exhausted and defeated for eternity.

Jongup crawls over and presses a kiss to Himchan's lips just before he disappears.

* * *

 


End file.
